"No, no. I——"
"With an apology for my——"
"Marie, dear, do look here——"
"—Stupidity the other day?"
"How shall I ever reach that step?" she exclaimed, breaking in upon her own words and obstinately buffeting his own as she gazed with more than necessary dismay at the high vestibule tread.
"Would you hold the flowers a moment—" he asked—her sister appeared at the door—"so I may help you?" continued the patient railroad man.
"See, Marie, these dear flowers!" Marie clapped her hands as she ran forward. He held the flowers up. "Are they for me?" she cried.
"Will you take them?" he asked, as she bent over the guard-rail. "Oh, gladly." He turned instantly, but Gertrude had gained the step. "Thank you, thank you," exclaimed Marie. "What is their name, Mr. Glover?"
"I don't know any name for them except an Indian name. The Sioux, up in their country, call them sky-eyes."
"Sky-eyes! Isn't that dear? sky-eyes."